Ouran High School Host Club: Across A Blue Universe
by Mr. Bluu
Summary: Eclair and Yoshio Ootori's plans have succeeded. Tamaki is spirited away to France, and the Host Club becomes a shadow of its former self. But Kyoya has a plan for everything, and this crisis is no different. But to do it, our three Hosts will have to break the law, travel internationally and illegally, and maybe worse. . . .If Kyoya's rampant emotions don't kill them first.
1. Episode 1: A Life Without The King

_Born out of my incessant love for Shissou, the ending theme for Ouran Host Club._

_Before we get started, I'd like to address a Japanese honorific that I may or may not use throughout my story (for those of you that didn't know.)_

_Senpai/Sempai: One who's grade is higher than oneself_

**_SCHEDULE!_**

_As many of my few readers are familiar with my infrequent update pattern, I'm just going to go out and say that I will do one chapter a month, and that this is GUARANTEED (unless something major comes up that will prevent me from writing.). There will be a break every five chapters for about a month._

**_REVIEWS!_**

_While I enjoy ANY sign of appreciation for my work, I humbly request that if you are going to favorite or something else, please review! I skim through my works about once a week, and only notice reviews. I am starting, with this story, to attempt to contact my reviewers and give them a thank you for their kind words._

**_ALSO!_**

_Just felt that I should say to any readers of my other works that UNTIL THIS FANFICTION IS FINISHED, EVERYTHING**!**_ ELSE IS ON HIATUS! THANK YOU!

**_WITHOUT FURTHER ADO!_**

_I present..._

**Ouran High School Host Club: Across a Blue Universe**

* * *

_"No! It can't just end like this! Not after everything we've been through! Not after how close we were!" Hikaru shouted, each shred of pain and utter anguish resounding off the trees of the pumpkin patch. Every bit of final, dreadful desperation that retched from his throat tore at Haruhi's soul. Not even his brother's loving touch could dissuade the Hitachiin twin from his grief. Haruhi herself tried to bend down to him, but Hikaru's cries only stung and she had to pull back._

_Kaoru, on the other hand, continued his soft, soothing massages and sweet nothings into his brother's ear, but meanwhile glanced at Haruhi with a fury in his eyes that she hadn't seen for a long time from the orange-haired teenager. Not since the twins had ceased talking to one another had that look of anger crossed Kaoru's face. It actually surprised her that the mellower of the twins was glaring so vehemently._

_"Haruhi," he said, venom practically dripping from his voice. This time his foul disposition actually frightened her, but the Hitachiin shot her a small grin. "Go get our boss back."_

* * *

_"Tamaki!" Haruhi called over the din of the car's motor and the horse's hooves. "Tamaki-sempai, we need you back! The Host Club's falling apart without you!" The Ouran King turned to her with the road between them, his eyes widening at the horrific danger his "daughter" was getting into. Typical Tamaki. Had the situation been less tense, Haruhi might have rolled her eyes._

_"Haruhi! Get that carriage off the road! It's too dangerous up here, and you're gonna get hurt! Besides, you all are sick of me! The least I can do is get outta your way!" The carriage under her shook as a wheel ran over a rock on the road, and she lurched forward with the Victorian device. Tamaki tried to leap over and help her, but his soon-to-be-wife Éclair got in the way._

_"No, Tamaki, dear!" she cried with mock concern as she grabbed his pale hand. "You simply musn't! Your Haruhi has been nonchalantly selling her body to the other Hosts! I swear to you, I saw it myself! The twins on side, the silent one and the one with glasses using her in such deranged manners! Even the adorable creature with the bunny dolls was playing with her like a toy, to be thrown away after being used! What a dreadful sight it was!"_

_Éclair's performance was clearly acted and rehearsed, just in case something like this was fated to interfere with her and Mr. Ootori's plot to steal Tamaki away. The hand movements, the voice pitch; everything was timed down to the second. And Haruhi could see Éclair smirk at her through her binoculars._

_All between a carriage and a luxury white car speeding down the road._

_Tamaki stared at her, indigo eyes bulging out of their sockets and mouth hanging wide open. As if it happened in slow motion, Haruhi could see each line of his face contorting in a mask of hurt. _

_This was simply...terrifying. She'd never seen Tamaki with _real _emotional pain. It had always been the face of the Ouran King, a beaming smile and entrancing eyes captivating hundreds of girls and whispering delicious words into their ears. Or it'd been that ridiculous "Father" face, the look of concern for one whom he'd labeled as his daughter. _

_Haruhi had never wanted that look to return as badly as she did now. Anything to wipe away that numbed look on the blonde's face._

_"I can't..." she saw him mouth."I can't...Haruhi wouldn't...not my b-baby girl..."_

_His eyebrows furrowed. _

_His eyes widened in fury._

_One solitary tear was streaming down the Ouran King's cheek. _

_Haruhi wanted so desperately, so hysterically to tell him that it wasn't true, that Éclair was merely creating a façade. But the anger written on Tamaki's face told her that the deal was sealed. Tamaki believed his French fiancé through and through._

_"I can't believe it..." the blonde whispered."I can't believe you would do something like this. All this time together and you still couldn't_ see_ what you do to me without even trying? How could you...I just...I loved you so much, Haruhi..."_

_"But my daughter isn't some backstabbing whore. Step on it, driver!"_

_And with that, the horses finally gave up the weary struggle, stopping very abruptly as the car carrying Tamaki and Éclair sped away into the dying sunset. The sudden stop of the elaborate carriage caused another, far stronger lurch. The momentum carried the cross dresser out of the vehicle and sprawling on the hard, hot pavement. Haruhi could feel the skin on her left forearm graze off horrendously, and a lightning-quick, shooting pain race to her forehead._

_As the darkness closed in around her, both from her unconsciousness and from the now dead sunlight that'd just dipped below the mountaintops, only one thought coursed through her:_

_How could she have let go so _easily_?_

* * *

After the King of Ouran's departure to France, the Host Club had lost its glue and began to rapidly fall apart.

Honi had begun to eat sweets and sugars more often than ever before, and only Mori's rage-filled training with him did anything to halt the boy's weight gain. Though Honi had easily consumed a pound or two in an attempt to quell the hurt in his heart, his cousin kept him rigorously fit.

Mori himself was a different story. The muscly tower of a Host had already put a fist through several of the walls, with only an apathetic Kyoya there to remind him that he'd have to pay that off with Host work. At that point, Mori had almost hit Kyoya as well. Thankfully, the black-haired Host kept his cool and prevented putting the Shadow King through a wall.

Hikaru and Kaoru had been swallowed back up by themselves. Often times they'd sit in one of Music Room 3's pink-rimmed windows and stare absent-mindedly at the ground below. Only Kyoya could remember what exactly was happening to them, and thankfully didn't mind sharing. They'd devolved back to their own little world, with an invisible barrier surrounding them and protecting them from other people. Only this time around, they weren't letting _anyone _through.

Haruhi's debt had been almost completely forgotten, and when classes were not in session she would sit in the Music Room and read. Books upon books upon books scattered everywhere, in shin high piles. Edgar Allan Poe's _The Raven_, Stan Nicholls'_ Orcs_, even a few of Hajime Isayama's _Attack On Titan _manga novels. She rather liked the EreMika pairing that apparently garnered much fame on the Internet. Who could say, perhaps it was the canon of the pairing, or maybe the 'incest' app-

_'Mommy...I failed as a father, my little Haruhi's been out with those shady twins all night no-'_

She'd promptly throw the manga on the floor, disgusted and angry.

Of all the remaining Hosts, only Kyoya had been seemingly unaffected by Tamaki's absence.

The Shadow King continued to accept clients for the Club, though he was the only Host who really took clients anymore. Due to his own work not making a very large amount of money, Kyoya was forced to scrounge around in Nekozawa's Black Magic stores. This caused much of the Host Club's events (everything done by Kyoya, of course) to take on a dreary, downtrodden appearance. The Shadow King often times appeared in one of Nekozawa's black robes, which served more to creep any potential clients out rather than charm them.

In short, most of Kyoya's clients saw in the Music Room, what the Hosts felt on the inside.

And so it was, another boring day in Music Room 3, when Haruhi actually had thoughts on her mind that weren't book related. She set down the copy of _The Onion's Our Dumb World, _and called Kyoya over to the mattress the twins had hauled into the room. One last act of kindness before descending into their fortresses of solitude.

"Kyoya," she said quietly, once the glasses-wearing Host had strode over with his ever present clipboard. "Why...why do you still accept clients? I mean, it's not like the Club's still really even here anymore. It's just the five of us sitting here and you doing your...thing. Why are you trying to hold on to the way things were?"

Kyoya pushed his glasses back on his nose, and Haruhi almost giggled at the little gesture that hadn't really been noticed by her all the times she'd seen it, and the memories it brought back.

"Well," he said as he sat down on the mattress next to Haruhi. "I suppose it's like...keeping the throne warm for our King. I know it's most likely an ill-fated venture, but Tamaki, however annoying and obnoxious and idiotic he was, was my friend. He was such a constant in my life and I don't think I'm ready to let him go. I feel like...if Tamaki were here, he'd want us to still Host."

And then something she wouldn't have _ever_ expected from Kyoya happened.

A lone tear traced its waving pattern down his cheek.

The Shadow King was crying.

Abruptly, Kyoya lifted himself from the mattress and stalked off towards the bathroom. It took Haruhi a second to realize what was happening, but she soon followed the Ootori boy and tired her best to match his viciously long strides.

"Kyoya-sempai! Stop-" her pleas were heard, perhaps a little too early. Kyoya stopped running, just fast enough for her to slide into him.

"Why did he have to be so STUPID?!" He yelled right in her face, his voice crossing the doorway.

His teeth clenched, cords in his neck strained, and he breathed like a tired lion. It scared Haruhi a little, scared her more than that night Kyoya had threatened to take advantage of her. But the thought that came to her head in response to his question almost sent her into waves of laughter. But she dare not let it loose; as she wasn't sure she was safe from Kyoya's fury yet.

"Kyoya...this is _Tamaki _we're talking about. You know that, right?"

Slowly, ever so slowly a smile crept on to the Shadow King's face. It wasn't a big one, but a grin of pain released and then sudden relief. Haruhi herself began to giggle uncontrollably as Kyoya let loose a small chuckle. She had to hold herself up against the bathroom sink lest she fall and crack her head on the tile.

After the laughter died down, Haruhi hugged Kyoya tightly. "Sempai..." she whispered."Those stereotypes he gave us don't need to be us. Drop the whole Shadow King thing and just be Kyoya, okay?"

He straightened his glasses again, his expression devoid of a grin but still retaining that smug, Kyoya-like glow to it.

"I'm going after him, Haruhi. I'll swim to France by myself if I have to. But either Tamaki is coming back, or neither of us is."

"Kyoya, look," she countered. "I wanted him back just as much as you do, but he left willingly. He left us alone willingly! What makes you think that he'll just walk back in that door same as ever and then everything'll be fine again?"

"Haruhi. Through all my years standing beside him, he never once gave up on me, never once did he let me fall. The same with the Host Club. The damn idiot would do whatever it took to keep us afloat."

He grabbed her chin and pointed her face at his, so she looked him right in his onyx eyes.

"Did he ever give up on you?"

How she wanted to say _yes, yes he did_.

But one part of her couldn't help but think how wonderful things would be with him there again.

* * *

**R&amp;R!** **Also feel free to tell me of any canon (ANIME canon) errors I may have made!**

**Question of the Episode: Who do you ship Haruhi with, if anyone?**

***Roll end credits***


	2. Episode 2: Kyoya Activates Host Reserve

It was another day in Music Room 3. In fact, the air in the room wasn't quite as dreadful as it had been in the past several weeks. The agony and anguish was gone, replaced by a stench of boredom that permeated the place as well as it six occupants. The Hosts weren't quite sure which one they despised most.

It was back to the same old routine the Ouran students had come to know so well since their King departed. Honi ate, Mori trained, the twins stared out the windows, and Haruhi read. This time it was Fanfiction. She'd just finished the 50th chapter of Gamera68's _Rosario Vampire: Confession And A Vampire._ Despite not liking supernatural stories(as the thoughts of skeletons and ghosts and creaky hallways always inevitably led back to thunder) she thought that the author had done a wonderful job of portraying the two lovers, Moka and Tskune, who also happened to be from an anime of the same title as the Fanfiction, (Hikaru and Kaoru's fault, she'd say. One episode of nothing but fanservice and the brunette was done) as well as make it seem as though they were real people, and that the love they shared was real. And chapter 16's Neko scene had her laughing uncontrollably until the lemons had started...that was where she'd begun to skip through the end of each chapter, as many contained a lemon.

**(A/N: That is an actual Fanfiction of high quality, almost bringing me(who never cries at anything) to tears. I highly suggest it to any Rosario fans out there. You know who you are...)**

At least now she could see why the twins had liked the anime so much.

Looking over at said redheads, she wondered what it was like for them to live in their own little universe. To simply be _cut off _from, at least it seemed, the rest of the world. Sometimes she'd say something to them and they'd completely ignore her. Were they that sunken in to the mindset of trusting only each other? Not that she could blame them. One could easily look at the twins and see how much they respected Tamaki and wanted his approval. How father-like he was to them. To have him run away from his self-proclaimed "Family" like that, without a second thought...It must've cut them incredibly deep.

That, and the knowledge that they'd trusted _her_, the one person they let into their world, to bring him back to them.

And she'd failed.

A horrific sense of guilt settled into the crossdresser. They'd _trusted_ her. They wanted him back so _badly_. She hadn't been able to do that for them. It felt like a an open knife wound to know she'd failed them. Hikaru and Kaoru, the two Hosts who had done more than any of the others to adjust for the betterment of all seven, who'd unlocked that little gilded cage they sat in and let others in? They'd given up so much for her and she hadn't been skilled enough to pay them back.

Her wallowing was cut short by the loud crashing of the doors to the Music Room closing, then a quiet humming that she was sure was Shissou, a song by the band Last Alliance. Haruhi herself hadn't heard it, but she'd heard from Tamaki before he left that he and Kyoya used to blast it in the car together when the Shadow King was in higher spirits. And who else would it be at the door other than...

"Hello everyone," the perhaps-one-day Ootori heir spoke pleasantly to his friends.

Kyoya did not, in fact, have on his Ouran uniform. And, though she couldn't say she had any attraction to Kyoya, she definitely couldn't say he had no dress sense.

He was wrapped up in a large gray trenchcoat, the hem coming down to about the middle of his thighs. Some very baggy, black jean pants graced his bottom half, and a plain shirt of the same color covered him underneath his trenchcoat. And as always, his trademark (Intentionally) reflective glasses adorned his face.

"Kyoya?" Haruhi asked. "Are you...going somewhere?"

The Shadow King smirked and replied, "Well to tell the truth, _we_ are going somewhere." He strolled towards the hallway that housed their utilities, and piping up a bit, yelled "MORI-SEMPAI! I WISH TO SPEAK TO YOU AND HARUHI IN PRIVATE PLEASE!"

A Mori-fied version of "be right there" resounded through the Music Room as a crack of broken wood. A few seconds later, the wild Host stood before them, sweating slightly from his training session and unwrapping his hand bindings.

"You called me?" the towering teenager inquired.

Kyoya looked up at his sempai, still smirking. "Of course, as said I need to talk to both you and Haruhi in private."

Mori shrugged. "Twins aren't listening, Mitsukuni is tied up in his cake. Doesn't seem to me that private is really needed."

He was right, as the twins were murmuring to each other and Honi was indeed stuffing his face with cake.

"A fine point. What I needed to discuss with you two is our trip to France."

Both of Kyoya's fellow Hosts let out gasps, though Haruhi's was a bit more audible.

"Sempai...you don't mean you're..."Haruhi murmured.

A confident flash ran across Kyoya's glasses. Haruhi was a dear friend of his, he admitted, but was she really that thick? Hadn't he already told her of his plans?

"You didn't think I'd make such a major statement as I did and not follow up, did you?"

Mori shrugged again. "Mind filling me in?"

"I'm bringing Tamaki back."

"He thinks he is. That jerk's not going to listen to a damn thing, Kyoya. He's completely under that woman's spell."

"Come now, Haruhi," the Ootori boy purred. "This is Tamaki we're talking about, but even he can't be as unreasonable as that."

"Trust me, Kyoya..."

"Nonsense! Tamaki's-"

"He called me a _whore_!"

Both commoner and Ootori went silent. Even Mori's usually stoic features crumbled after this.

"That French woman concocted up some lie of me whoring myself off to the five of you, and Tamaki believed every word of it! And I just..." she fell into a pair of strong arms and started bawling.

"I just...I couldn't do a thing!" she sobbed between sniffles. "It's like he's under some sort of mind control, and I couldn't snap him the hell out of it! I know it's not his fault, he's just stupid...but it broke me, Kyoya!"

She wanted desperately to add _he told me he loved me_, but Kami knows what kind of riot that would start in this room.

She cried for a few more minutes, during which one of the arms supporting her lifted a hand to her head and ruffled her hair gently, which told her it was Mori. When she was finished, she and Mori looked back over to Kyoya.

He was no longer smirking. His glasses completely obscured his eyes, and his face was dark. When he next spoke, it was in a deadly tone, like a viper.

"Well then," he hissed. "We had better get going. If not to bring the idiot back, then at least give him a good slap across the face.

"Are you two going to get packed or not? The plane leaves in about four hours, and all on my lonesome who knows what kind of trouble I might get into..."

That sentence entailed chilling prospects. Both Hosts knew of Kyoya's fearsome but somehow miraculously controlled temper. They also knew of the cold, blade-like way he could unleash it upon commoners, or at least those who he thought beneath his station. That could get him into trouble in France. Here he was Kyoya Ootori. There he was nothing, and his transition between those two worlds might go a bit smoother with the two more level-headed Hosts by his side.

They also knew they couldn't, however much they might want to, just leave Kyoya to whatever fate awaited him on that plane. They were his friends and he theirs, and they'd stood together through almost equally dim times. Now seemed as good a time as ever to keep that bond going.

It was an offer that, due to both their dedication to their friend and concern for his safety, they couldn't refuse.

"And now," the Shadow King started. "Activating Host Reserve."

"Excuse me?" Haruhi queried.

Kyoya ignored her, scribbling at the speed of light on his notebook, then ripping out two pages and handing them to Mori.

"Take one of each to Kassanoda and Nekozawa. They will know what to do."

Mori's long legs enabled him to be out of the room before Kyoya had even finished. Pushing up his glasses again, the Ootori boy turned to Haruhi.

"In answer to your question," he began. "'Host Reserve' was a contingency plan I had in place, just in case Tamaki ever pulled something like this. Before Kassanoda arrived, it was only myself and Nekozawa who were in on it, but it stated in the absence of three of more Hosts, all who were in agreement with me were to report here under the direction of myself. Seeing as I'll be with you and Mori, they'll be put under Honi-sempai's command."

"Why Honi?"

"Well the only alternatives were Hikaru or Kaoru, and we both can envision how that'd work out..."

Both chuckled, but at that moment Mori came striding back into the room. He said flatly, "Both agree," before continuing over to Hikaru and Kaoru.

"Hikaru," the wild Host said, no emotion reflected on his face. "Kaoru."

Both ignored him.

"You two _will _take care of Mitsukuni. You _will_ make sure he takes his baths, you _will_ keep him fit, you _will_ make sure he brushes his teeth, you_ will_ get him to bed on time, and you _will_ buy him cake. Is that clear?"

"Why should we?" Kaoru groaned.

Mori only need crack his knuckles once, and the shady twins shaped up quite fast. Then, with much less anger in his gait, the tall Host strode over to Honi, and knelt down in front of the boy currently devouring a third cake.

"Mitsukuni," he spoke softly. "I need you to listen very carefully. Haruhi and Kyoya and I are going on a long trip. Kyoya is making you the leader of the club till we get back. I need you to be a good leader, and treat the twins right. Nekozawa and Bossanova are going to be joining with us temporarily, trying to earn some money back. They need you to do good, alright? So do I, and Usa-chan, too." He pointed a thin finger towards the pink bunny doll lying forgotten in Honi's lap.

Honi wiped his mouth, and the loli-shota Host laughed like a baby before getting up to go and clean his now crumb covered uniform.

"Don't worry, Takashi!" he called from down the hallway. "If Usa-chan needs me, then I'll do my best!"

Both his tasks complete, Mori walked out of Music Room 3 down to his dorm, him and Kyoya exchanging quick nods.

"I should probably get packing too..."Haruhi trailed, her voice forgotten in the awkward silence.

"That'd be a good start," Kyoya replied before exiting for his own dorm.

Three and a half hours later, Kyoya, Haruhi, and Mori, stepped into the lobby of the Rushini International Airport**(A/N: Not a real airport I love Fanfiction but not enough to go to Japan and find out how their airports work.)**. Mori, unsurprisingly, was carrying easily half the luggage in his immense arms, and not breaking a sweat. Haruhi and Kyoya hadn't been let of the hook, however, and each sported their own suitcases.

Kyoya hadn't changed, but Mori wore a green, sleeveless shirt with a few short pale blue lines running up the sides. Cargo pants, a vest to match the lines on his shirt, and black tennis shoes completed the look.

Haruhi had donned a denim pants(not a skirt only because the rest of Ouran still had no idea she was a girl, and Kyoya wouldn't risk it) and a pull down turtleneck with white and brown rows flowing down it.

All in all, nobody would suspect them (or at least two of them) of being the children of some of Japan's wealthiest families. A large screen hung from the ceiling in front of a bench, showing departure and arrival times. The three sat down there, relieved to be free of the suitcases they'd carried.

Kyoya pointed to a specific row on the screen, which spelt out in bright orange letters:

**DEPARTURE: BUNKYO, TOKYO; 4:30 PM**

**ARRIVAL: BERLIN, GERMANY; 5:00 AM**

"Sempai," Haruhi began, a confused tone to her voice. "What happened to France?"

"Well it just so happens that my father would be most unhappy that his youngest son boarded the first flight to France in a few weeks, only to bring back the one he'd worked so hard to send away. He'd most certainly send Black Onion men to guard that particular flight."

"I see."

She looked at the glowing orange letters again. 4:30 PM. Only about a half of an hour, and then they'd be on their way to go and rescue their King.

This was shaping up to be one hell of an adventure.

**You people have no idea how tired I am right now. You dangnabbin' reviewers and your 'OH CONTINUE' bullcrap...JK XDDDD!**

**I thank you, those who have reviewed thus far, and those that will be in the future!**

**R&amp;R!**

**Question Of The Episode: Opinions on twincest?**

***Roll End Credits***


	3. Episode 3: A Frenchman and Three Hosts

The bright red, neon _MgRonald's_sign sparkled invitingly as Kyoya got into line, behind a middle-aged man of graying hair. Kyoya himself had been feeling a bit hungry, as he hadn't eaten since before Haruhi, Mori, and himself had left the Academy. Apparently the others' stomachs had been equally deprived, and a startlingly eager Haruhi had practically begged him to go to _MgRonald's_ once the Shadow King had mentioned it being there. Mori had nodded in agreement, and so Kyoya found himself in line, at this den of cuisine iniquity.

Naturally, with such an expansive mind(and a moderate amount of time on his hands), he had a lot to occupy it.

First his mind drifted to Tamaki. He couldn't help but shake the feeling that this...quest of theirs was for nothing. Perhaps Tamaki was happier in France. In which case, what would become of their Club? Kyoya couldn't manage it himself. No, as much as the Ootori boy hated to admit it, he needed Tamaki. Kyoya was a dog before he'd met Tamaki, following his father around and wagging his tail and rolling over for even the slightest ounce of approval. But no, his father had two other prize winning dogs, and so Kyoya was the one that had to sleep outside. Until of course he'd met Tamaki. The blonde had showed him that he'd never needed his father's approval to do as he dreamed, to be free from his leash.

All he needed was a strong enough pair of teeth.

But, as he knew best, wherever Tamaki went, those dastardly henchmen of his followed.

And so as Tamaki had drifted through his mind, the twins entered, whirl winding about and knocking everything out of order. Not unlike them, of course, but did they really have to happen along at such a crucial moment? He did hope that they were taking care of Honi. If they weren't, he wasn't sure he could get Mori's hands out of their skulls. Scratch that, Kyoya was _certain_ he couldn't. And the thrashing Mori would most likely institute upon them would be so terrible even he wouldn't be able to flinch.

Speaking of Mori, the giant Host had been severely testing Kyoya. Not that he blamed Mori, or course, for it was just the way he was wired. But the black-haired boy was simply _unreadable_. His stoic persona and constant poker face were so steely that not even the Shadow King could break through. It frustrated Kyoya immensely. He could guess that it was just that with the other Hosts, they all wore their emotions right on their sleeves, so Kyoya had no need to waste any effort deducing what emotional state they were in. It was written all over their faces. With Mori it had been an entirely different story.

Different story...

And then he found himself thinking of _her_. The fiery spinner that had come surging into his life and had knocked him off his damn feet.

That first day she'd entered into the Club, he'd found her act to be...amusing or, at least, odd. Over time the whole thing(especially after the rest of the club had awoken) began to less amuse him and more..._intrigue_him. This special case of person, unlike rich upperclassmen because she was not born into greatness. Unlike her fellow middleclassmen because she was willing to fight to be great, instead of wallow in her own entropy. She was intriguing because she challenged him. Any woman he had ever met and taken a liking to was instantly all his, never to be swayed. There was no thrill. The Host Club had been no different. Any clients he took needed but a kiss of the hand and a few sweet lies and they would swoon about him forever. With her...

She defied him.

It would not have taken the minimal amount of effort to have her fall for him. It would have taken months, maybe even years, of false, pretentious labor for her to love him. Perhaps Kyoya would have proven his prediction true, had the "false" part been out of the question.

But he loved her now. It was impossible.

He had to navigate her moral world, keep up his appearance of ice and apathy(though she could crumble that wall as though it were made of sand), and make sure that his Host tendencies did not surface around her. One wrong move, one seemingly fake gesture of love towards her that she'd seen him do to so many and then toss them away, and they'd be over before they even began.

Not only did she challenge him, she challenged everything he thought he knew about anything. She had taught him lessons the most skilled of teachers had no clue about. When he'd made it appear as though he would take advantage of her to prove a point, she hadn't been writhing about and begging him to take her. She'd turned his lesson around and fired it right back in his face.

She made him work for her.

Yes indeed, Kyoya Ootori was in love with Haruhi Fujioka.

"Uhm, sir?" a kind voice spoke.

Kyoya's head snapped up abruptly. It suddenly occurred to the Ootori that he'd been standing at the front of the line staring blankly ahead. And several moderately testy customers were standing behind him.

"Forgive my lack of attention," he replied to the cashier, a moderately tall teenager with orange eyes, and a peculiar shade of dark green hair.

"Oh no, it's no problem at all, man," he said. "So what'll it be?"

Kyoya's finger immediately shot to his lip, as he examined the menu.

'_What would she like?_' he thought.

"Sir," the cashier piped up, after several minutes of no solution. "Might I suggest our special for today? Its fries and tuna slices. Bargain deal too! 631 yen, I think."

Kyoya's eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

The instant he was done telling Kyoya about the special, the Shadow King's fist slammed down onto the counter with the exact amount of yen already in hand.

"Done! I'll have three!"

The frightened teenager placed Kyoya's order on a slip of binder paper, not unlike that which the Shadow King's notebook often played host to, and had it sent back into the kitchen.

"S-step to the right, sir. Your food will be right out."

Kyoya did as the cashier instructed, stepping to the right and sitting down at one of the multitude of tables. Across from him, he had neglected to notice, was a short, pale man, black hair tied back in a ponytail. He was clad in a plain purple shirt and long, tan flannel pants. The man's skin was red and raw near the forearms, like he'd been sunburned severely. He was currently tearing his teeth into a burger, tomato and onion and meat and bun crunching under his jaws.

"Forgive me, I didn't see you there," Kyoya said curtly and moved to get up, but his acquaintance stopped him before he could bow and leave.

"Seat's empty, Mon Ami," he said, his voice gravelly and with just a hint of a French accent. "I've no extra luggage or persons. No harm in sitting."

"Well if it's no offense to you, sir," Kyoya replied as he sat back down. The man raised his head slowly, taking in Kyoya with electric green eyes. They were studious, like they eyes of a scientist who'd just found the most peculiar thing under their microscope.

"You look like a boy with an objective. Where are you off to this fine evening?"

"Germany. I have a friend over the border that got himself into some bad business."

"Must've been something pretty terrible for you to travel halfway across the world-"

A startling shriek cut through his voice and the bustling of the crowd around them, a very female one. The entire assemblage went dead quiet as it rang out. Kyoya's senses ran dead. He knew that voice.

"If you'll excuse me," he said at nearly the speed of light as he got up from his table and ran off towards wherever Haruhi's scream had come from. People, for some reason Kyoya didn't have the focus to notice at the moment, had begun to flee in panic away from a particular terminal, many screaming with voices loud enough and frightening enough to match Haruhi's. Poking his head high over the seas of rushing bodies to look at the identification sign of the terminal, his dread was now insurmountable.

**BERLIN, GERMANY, 4:30 PM**

His feet moved faster than they'd ever moved in his life. Fighting through the masses of airport-goers, the Shadow King could distinctly remember kicking at a couple of the insolent cowards to get them out of his way. Normally, he would've been a bit more polite about his rush, but at this point they didn't matter to him at all. All that really mattered was that something had happened at Haruhi and Mori's terminal, and it was enough to cause mass panic. It couldn't be good.

Finally, the ocean of commoners parted, and Kyoya was greeted with a most interesting sight.

Just as he had predicted, Yoshio Ootori had indeed sent men of the Black Onion private police force to lock down said terminal, though Yoshio had surprised even his most brilliant son with this move. He'd thought his father would think him eager to retrieve Tamaki, and he'd board the first flight to France in his supposed blindness. He hadn't accounted for Yoshio's contingency.

Two of the men had been downed, and Mori stood between the unconscious men, his fist raised high and a dark look on his face. Haruhi stood behind him, utterly terrified but unhurt.

An instantaneous sense of relief washed over Yoshio's son. Haruhi was alright, and the panic had been mostly folly.

"Master Kyoya," a portly Black Onion said, clearing his throat. "Under orders from Master Yoshio, this aircraft and terminal are both being held under extreme lockdown in the event of your attempting to board. Master Yoshio also requested that you return to either Ouran Academy or the Ootori family home. The decision is yours, but the aircraft is not one of said options."

'_Not one of my options...'_

It all had come down to this. This crucial, essential moment. He could see in the eyes of the other two that the decision was up to him. They trusted him wholeheartedly, and would choose whatever path he did, however unsightly the end result might be. And however unsightly his decision might be. How unwise they were.

Could he be trusted with such a monumental burden?

He looked to Mori, the other Host's fist raised high in a blazing arc, ready to deliver swift retribution onto any who dared approach. He looked over to Kyoya, and onyx met onyx as Mori searched through him. Those eyes were looking for any sign of hesitation, any millimeter of doubt that could jeopardize their mission.

Kyoya showed none. And so Mori's buried fears were set at ease.

Next his gaze met Haruhi's, a look of steel interlaced with fear. She put off a tough exterior, as she would never back down an inch in the face of the Black Onion men.

But Kyoya knew her better than these men. He knew what scared her, what gave her want to flee, and what would cause her to stand her ground against anybody.

Her friends.

Both her and Mori wanted to get on that plane. Both her and Mori wanted to get Tamaki back. Who was Kyoya to let them down?

Pinching his nose in mock defeat, although wearing a large grin, the Ootori boy spoke softly to Mori "Excuse me, Mori-sempai, but how many of the Black Onion are here?"

A gruff "Three," was his only response.

One light, almost silent, venomous chuckle escape Kyoya's throat, and his glasses flashed confidently. He could've swore that the men currently blocking their path were sweating ever so slightly under their helmets.

"Dispose of them at your leisure sempai," he declared. "Haruhi and I shall board and await you."

Now they were definitely sweating. Kyoya didn't need to see their faces to know that. Right now they didn't have time.

Seeing that two of the men had joined their hands to block the passage, Kyoya quickly grabbed Haruhi's slender hand and tossed her in a slide in between their legs. He followed her through the gap, biting into one of their attackers' gloved hands as they reached for him. Kyoya crashed right into Haruhi knocking over the crossdresser before grabbing her hand and lifting her to her feet. He pushed her down the corridor, yelling "Run! I'll meet you there!"

He only saw her nod before she ran for her life and rounded the passage's bend and was gone. Kyoya followed her, hearing loud _smacks!_ and _oofs!_ as Mori no doubt wiped the floor with the less-experienced men behind them.

As Kyoya entered the plane, he saw a familiar face.

"Aye, my friend," the Ponytail-haired (French? Kyoya couldn't yet decide) man from the _Mgronald's_ said, sitting lazy in the pilot's seat about thirty feet from Kyoya. "Coincidence, no? That you and your girlfriend are on the plane I'm piloting...how peculiar. Or, well..._acquiring_, shall we say."

"WHHUU?" Kyoya blustered. "Gi-girlfriend? Well, only in my wildest dreams-"

"Excuse me?" voiced an incredulous Haruhi from a seat near the man.

" That's b-beside the point! Why are you here, sir? We're in the middle of committing a grievous crime."

"Then it seems the fates align us again, boy," the Frenchman said. 'I was in the middle of the same thing."

Kyoya didn't have time to ponder that thought, as Mori came running into the plane so fast he nearly bowled over the younger boy.

"Done," he said, a trickle of sweat running down his face.

Kyoya almost cheered. Other than his most unexpected guest apparently about to fly them to who knows where, their plan couldn't be going more smoothly.

"So you are who and are flying us to...?" Haruhi asked, unsure whether or not he would in fact fly them to Germany, as he too was stealing.

And none of the three of them knew how to fly.

" The name's Remi Andrepont and to Berlin," he replied nonchalantly. Remi turned the chair and spoke in a hearty tone to his three passengers.

"Hold onto your helmets, people!"

And then they began to move.

**Question of the Episode: Anyone envision a Rosario Vampire/Ouran Crossover?**

***roll end credits***


	4. Episode 4: Kyoya in a Bind!

_It was warm, like a bath scorching Kyoya, like flames licking pleasurable lines up his sides until he would writhe about in his container. The walls were silken and white, snowy sheets sealing him and another human being from the outside world. Kyoya couldn't say he minded that. The outside world was too complicated. So many opposing sides clashing and fighting for this goal and that, only to wither away and die. What a waste of time! The Shadow King would much rather stay in bed and enjoy the company of whoever the minx below his bedsheets was. It was so warm, wonderful. Comfortable. Safe. Though he didn't fear the sides outside his pocket of heat, he knew that they couldn't hurt him here._

_He himself knew that it wouldn't last, however, and forced himself out of the façade, up and into the light of the room around him. Rays from the sun glinted off of the windows and his glasses on the bedside table, one alabaster hand reaching for them and grasping them in dainty fingers. The arm poked out from under the sheets and sucked the glasses back down into their monochrome depths. Kyoya reached exasperatedly for them and instead found his own fingers around a throat, rather than the hand and glasses he'd intended._

_"Oh, sempai," the other person said, definitely a female, and one Kyoya knew most deeply. "I didn't know you liked it like this."_

_Haruhi's blushing face emerged from the sheets, a coy smile on her face and Kyoya's hand around her throat. She bit her lip and leaned up to kiss him, biting his lower lip and trailing her own down his neck. The Shadow King shivered and his breath hitched as he moved her off of him with his hands. "W-Why're you here, Haruhi?" he asked with genuine curiosity in his voice._

_"You don't remember, Kyoya?" Haruhi replied, smiling at him still. "We were in a party at Tamaki's home and you approached me late after it started, brought me here...Oh, I'm so sorry I resisted you at all...I'll never go back to Tamaki again..." Her auburn hair brushed his chin as she nuzzled her head into Kyoya's neck, running her hands down his back slowly. "So rough...so fast and hard and needy...I don't think I've ever screamed that loud in my life, sempai..."_

_And then he attacked her again, teeth clamping onto her neck and his hands carving marks down her body, handling it as roughly as he wished while she was reduced to a mewling mess under his touch..._

Kyoya awoke abruptly, a sheen of sweat covering him from head to toe. He was wrapped in a sleeping bag, lying peacefully on two of the plane's seats with his feet facing the aisle. One look out the window told him it was night, but he assumed from the various brown stains on the floor that Remi had been steadily consuming coffee to be alert enough to pilot the craft, and so the weren't in any danger of an eminent crash.

To make matters worse, Mori had been standing there and watching him from across the aisle, and by the entanglement of his limbs in his sleeping bag, he'd been shifting around in his sleep. By the look on Mori's face, he'd also been speaking.

"Listen very, _very_ carefully, Mori-sempai," Kyoya said, his eyes flashing dangerously as he spoke to the Host who was easily a head taller than him. "I know what you heard, and if I hear a _word_ of it being mentioned to Haruhi, I won't care how skilled you are in martial arts. I. Will. Destroy. You. Are we clear?"

Mori wasn't frightened in the least by the Shadow King. Kyoya's true power rested in his brain, not his brawn. If need be, Mori could break every limb Kyoya had, but he wouldn't need to, fortunately for the Ootori boy. Kyoya was his friend, and there was no way he would tell Haruhi about something like this, if it was indeed why he thought it was Kyoya was muttering her name in his sleep.

The tall Host knelt down to Kyoya, sincerity showing in his eyes and his small smile.

"Kyoya," he spoke softly after looking over his shoulder to make sure they wouldn't be eavesdropped. " I won't. But are you in love with Haruhi? Or was that just wishful thinking?"

Kyoya pondered that for a moment. He remembered that wonderful warmth in him, her lips on his, her blush and her smile and her hair and her throat...oh, Kami, her throat...but Mori's train of thought was only serving to disrupt him, and unintentionally, make him doubt his own assurances. He loved Haruhi. He knew he loved Haruhi. It wasn't a question of if, it was a question of how much, how dearly he wanted to hold her to him and kiss her, how badly he wanted her touch, her smile, her laugh, her presence, to be his and his alone. A selfish lover, Kyoya Ootori was, if such a thing existed.

"Yes," Kyoya replied, his eyes closed and his breathing regular. "Yes, I love Haruhi. More than life itself."

Kyoya's livelihood was out of his control now. Mori could destroy him, tell Haruhi, ruin whatever chance was there, and leave Kyoya a shattered husk. Or Mori could store the information away, deep and far away, and keep Kyoya from sinking so low he'd never be able to rise again. She could never know. If she did, all he had done would have been for nothing.

He'd stayed his hand, kept her from knowing how he felt, kept himself from swooping on her and making her his, because Tamaki deserved her more. Tamaki was his friend, and he couldn't be with Haruhi knowing that Tamaki loved her almost as much as he did. It would destroy Tamaki, and Kyoya would rather rot in solitude than do that to the one who had pulled him from that ancient and eternal darkness of his father's manipulation.

Let the brightest star in the whole universe bequeath itself to the noblest traveler.

The star in question, still yawning from her recent slumber, sat in the co pilot's chair in the cockpit, peacefully watching Remi guide their stolen craft through the clouds. The man's eyes were wide and his pupils were dilated, probably from the massive amounts of coffee he'd ingested to hold him over through the night. As far as using the restroom, Remi had insisted that a cup they dumped down the restroom at the plane's other end would work just fine.

Not that it made Haruhi feel any less disgusted about having to carry a cup of piss across a stolen plane.

_Stolen. _The word echoed through her head. They had _stolen_ an aircraft from a highly-respected airport, in broad daylight. Stolen! What would they face once they returned home, probably life imprisonment, or execution. Or something worse, though Haruhi couldn't imagine what could be worse than those. In that case, was their venture even worth it? Even if Tamaki came back, Mori, Kyoya, and herself would all face serious charges for their methods of retrieving him.

Which brought up the question: how much was Tamaki worth to each of them?

To her, Tamaki was worth any crime. He was their leader, their guide, their king. They needed him back and without him, all of the rest of the Club was lost. She'd already witnessed this in the time since his departure from Japan. Each Host, Hosts who Tamaki had led through dark and light times, was broken, reverted back to whatever they had been before he'd come in to their lives(Kyoya and Haruhi being the exceptions). And from seeing how horrific that had been, she couldn't let the rest of them suffer with themselves.

Kyoya, she knew, would do anything in his power to get Tamaki back. Other might mistake this as something _else_, but Haruhi knew the dynamic between them and that any suspicions on Kyoya's preferred gender would be silenced. But in all seriousness, Tamaki meant almost as much to Kyoya as the Host Club did. Tamaki had helped his get out of that great chasm, that spiraling downfall that Kyoya had so hated. Being used to fulfill the wishes of others. Kyoya wouldn't abandon somebody who freed him from that, under any circumstance.

Mori, self-efficient being that he was, perhaps, Haruhi thought, did not think the Host Club was his destiny. He was a martial artist, not a Host. While all of them would eventually have to move on, Mori, she imagined, would be the least broken up about it, though she knew that he did in fact enjoy doing work for the Club and the company of his friends.

"What's on your mind, girlie?" Remi inquired from the next seat over. " The consequences? The merits? I understand. Things I've had on my mind many a time."

"I'm sorry, sir?" Haruhi replied, slightly confused at the man's question, which had probably been fueled by his hopped-up-on-caffeine state. She'd heard that Kaoru had the same problem when under substance influence. He started to become very deep and philosophical, which had bee quite the laughing stock. Apparently Remi had this same problem. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean."

"Of this venture, of course. The consequences once we part ways, and you return home with whoever you came for. The merits of coming at all. You understand right?" He eyed her for a moment before returning to the console.

"Oh well, I suppose I was," the crossdresser replied thoughtfully. "Really I was just weighing out both and thinking about whether this was worth it. A pros-cons kind of thing. But I guess whether or not it was worth it doesn't really matter now. We're here, and going through with it. Kyoya-sempai...said he found you at a fast food restaurant at the airport, a chance encounter. What were you doing there anyway, and to end up stealing the same plane we were going to board?"

"Since we're probably all facing life imprisonment the moment we touch Japanese soil again, I guess there isn't any harm in telling," Remi said with a small, wry smile. Sitting up properly, he cleared his throat. "I had just turned 21, and had myself a girlfriend who was, in her opinion, at least, one of the best thieves in the world. Obviously this wasn't true, but I loved her, so I never did tell her how stupid the title sounded. Anyway, for my birthday that year we were in America, and we'd decided to attempt the first bank robbery we would together. It all went pretty smoothly, up until the authorities showed up. This we hadn't planned on, and so I hadn't brought a weapon. I hadn't but she had. She tried to pull it on them and they..." He paused for a moment and covered his face, sobbing quietly into his hands. Haruhi hadn't expected to see him like this. Here he was, a criminal of apparently epic proportions, a massive coffee addict and indifferently exuberant man, reduced to nothing in a matter of minutes.

His sobbing ceased, and he started to continue his tale.

"She died in my arms and they dragged me into the back of a police car," he resumed. "They left her in the road. Didn't even bother to move her body and given her a proper burial. They locked me in prison and I stayed for a little over six years until someone, not sure who, managed to dig me a hole out of my cell. The prison was in California I think, and so I didn't have much trouble getting to the East Coast after a week or two. A boat was there waiting for me, and I sailed the Pacific. Ended up in Japan and haven't left since. I was safe there, it appeared, 'cause nobody came across either ocean to bring me back. I only steal now to honor her, and I think it'd be wrong to abandon her trade."

Haruhi never would have thought that underneath all of Remi's layers, which even though they hadn't known him long, she could see through with no effort at all, there could be a being wracked with such pain and loss. And yet, this spirit stayed above the waves, for he had someone waiting for him at the shore. In that she supposed her and Remi were not all that different.

"Bored with my tale? Eh, its alright, girl. The exploits of some old thief understandably wouldn't interest a younger one like yourself."

"No its not li-"Haruhi started, but Remi activated the microphone near his head, just as the sun began to rise up over the horizon, miles and miles away.

"Attention, passengers," he spoke loudly. "Wake up because we'll be in Germany in about an hour and a half. Seeing as we're all wanted criminals, I cant exactly land us in the airport we were going to, so I've looked at a few maps and found a large enough field to land this boat. Denken Sie daran, eine Stunde(Remember, one hour!)!"

Half of their journey was up. Whatever loose ends were left, or fears to be confirmed would have to be shoved out of the way, Haruhi decided.

Now came the hard part. Stealing a giant aircraft in the middle of the day was difficult.

But convincing Tamaki to actually return with them to Japan?

**Question of the Episode: Would you have stolen the plane, as our three Hosts have?**

***roll end credits***


End file.
